“In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood, like a hundred golden urns pouring out the sun.” -Madeline Miller, “The Song Of Achilles.”

Message to Readers

This is kind of different from the stuff I usually write? Not in style but maybe content.

You Say We Weren’t Made to Be Puppets But Not A Day Goes By Where I Don’t See You Without Your String

March 7, 2019


He threw his head back over the couch and laughed lightly, “we’re all just water colour people with washed out smiles, are we not?”

“We’re embroidery thread hair and white garden stone  teeth and if we’re lucky we get eyes from the rocks in the sea, weathered by waves and coloured by some higher power on a whim.”

He yawned, stretching out his back and curling up comfortably like a cat on the seat. “We’re like a child’s art project,” he whispered, “a child who didn’t know what they were doing only that they were having an awful lot of fun.”

“I bet you your personality was chosen by a wheel of fortune and if you looked underneath the skin of your arms you’d see twigs.”

And after his proclamation he slept, the strings wrapping his wrists a little less taut than before 


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  • March 7, 2019 - 2:14pm (Now Viewing)

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  • lamonnaie

    Wow. This is written so well!

    about 1 year ago
  • Bi

    I loved this, It's incredibly powerful!

    about 1 year ago